Hazards
by MusicInMyHeart
Summary: Heroes/Law & Order: CI Crossover. Detective Rebecca Conway of the Major Case Squad is working the case of a young woman murdered in her apartment. It seemed like a typical killing... at first. Eventual OFC/Peter. R&R and enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Story:** Hazards  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairings:** I don't know yet. My OC will definitely have a love interest though.  
**Summary:** Heroes/Law & Order: CI Crossover. Detective Rebecca Conway of the Major Case Squad is working the case of a young woman murdered in her apartment. It seemed like a typical killing... at first. Each clue leads her and Detective Robert Goran down a road they never thought existed. It's very AU simply because I'm not including Eames.  
**Author's Note**: It's been a long time since I've written _anything_, let alone a Heroes story. I love criticism; the good, the bad, and the ugly-- just as long as it is constructive and not mean-spirited. So in other words: be gentle ;)  
**Author's Note II**: I hate Eames. I think she is so incredibly useless on that show that it's not even funny. I'm simply pretending that she doesn't exist. Also, I changed up some Sylar's victims. They've got new names, faces, etc.  
**Disclaimer**: Tim Kring and Dick Wolf are geniuses. I own nothing except for my OFCs. I'm simply borrowing these amazing characters for fun.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Raising the yellow crime tape above her, Detective Rebecca Conway entered the tiny Manhattan apartment and began putting on sterile gloves. She walked into the kitchen and sighed. Why couldn't this guy kill when she _didn't_ have a day off?

The job never got easier, the violence never seemed the stop, and there would always be criminals in the world. But somehow she felt she was making a difference. Each case solved meant that there was once less bad guy walking the streets, and some solace could be given to those families affected. That thought alone seemed to be the only thing keeping her going these days.

Her partner, Detective Robert Goran, was already in the scene. Kneeling down on one knee he closely examined the body. The sheet that was covering the victim was lifted slightly, giving Goran a better view.

She quickly glanced around the apartment. About 2,000 square feet, the hardwood floors gleamed brilliantly as the large, wide windows brought in the natural light. Modern furniture adorned the apartment. Golden colored walls added to the warmth of the room and highlighted the black and white poster-like photographs that were hanging everywhere.

She picked up a portrait of young woman with what looked like her mother and father. Their beaming faces stared back at her, the image running a chill through her body. _Here's another family that lost a child._

She set the frame back down and tried to stay focused. Kneeling down next to Goran, she asked the same worn out question. "What have we got?"

He looked up at his partner momentarily before pulling the sheet off completely.

"Oh my god," she revolted, and her hand almost flew to her mouth when she realized she was sterile and stopped herself. She had never seen such a gruesome crime in her short three years since making detective.

"It looks like she was killed while standing. The body hasn't been moved. Look at the blood splatter around the head," he pointed out.

"Where," she mumbled, "is her brain?" The victim's top half of her head was cut clean off, almost like a can that had just been opened. A piece of skin towards the back of the head was the only thing keeping everything attached.

A CSI came over to take a picture, giving Rebecca the perfect opportunity to close the young woman's eyes.

"It's not in the apartment," he replied. "The killer obviously likes to take a keepsake from his victims."

The plural added to the word 'victim' had her raising an eyebrow.

"This guy's been going across the country. Same M.O. Each victim receives the same dissection." Rising to his feet, Goran cautiously began walking around the room, his eyes scanning the scene before him. "Serial killers... they choose their victims carefully. Some even watch them for days... they learn their schedules and wait for the perfect moment. This guy's different."

"How?" She asked.

"They're random. Nobody's related. It doesn't look like there's any connection."

Rebecca began writing notes in a tiny yellow notepad she kept in her purse. The more she kept reading everything Goran mentioned, the more confused she got. How could there possibly be no connection between these victims? These couldn't be random acts of violence.

A piece of paper sticking out in between two couch cushions caught the corner of her eye. Walking a few steps into the small living area, she carefully removed what appeared to be a flyer.

"Goran." Getting his attention, the two examined the new piece of evidence.

-

_Evacuation Notice. June 14th, 2009._

-

"What the hell? Evacuation?"

"Look at the date," he pointed. "It's for next year."

Reading further down, she asked, "What does Homeland Security have to do with this?" Her eyes widened as a thought popped into her head. "Terrorists?"

Goran quickly shook his head. "No... terrorists like to make a big splash. They _want_ people to know who did the destruction."

She bent her body back to view the apartment manager being questioned by an office. "Do you have surveillance footage of the hallways?" She called out.

"I have the footage, but..." He began scratching his head. "It's the funniest thing. My cameras melted."

"Melted?"

"Every single one of them. The guy put his hand up to the lens before the tapes cut out."

The two detectives looked at each other. Both were thinking the same thing. This is going to be one hell of a case.


	2. Chapter 2

**Story:** Hazards  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairings****:** I don't know yet. My OC will definitely have a love interest though.  
**Summary:** Heroes/Law & Order: CI Crossover. Detective Rebecca Conway of the Major Case Squad is working the case of a young woman murdered in her apartment. It seemed like a typical killing... at first. Each clue leads her and Detective Robert Goran down a road they never thought existed. It's very AU simply because I'm not including Eames.  
**Author's Note**: It's been a long time since I've written _anything_, let alone a Heroes story. I love criticism; the good, the bad, and the ugly-- just as long as it is constructive and not mean-spirited. So in other words: be gentle ;)  
**Author's Note II**: I hate Eames. I think she is so incredibly useless on that show that it's not even funny. I'm simply pretending that she doesn't exist. Also, I changed up some Sylar's victims. They've got new names, faces, etc.  
**Disclaimer**: Tim Kring and Dick Wolf are geniuses. I own nothing except for my OFCs. I'm simply borrowing these amazing characters for fun.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

_(An Upper East Side Brownstone, New York City, The Same Day)_

A simple white envelope had been plucked from the dozens more from its container. Creamy yellow stationary paper was strewn about the expensive mahogany business desk. Delicate, manicured hands folded a piece of paper into the covering and sealed the ends shut with a glue stick.

She always thought it was unladylike to lick a letter shut.

With a sly smirk spread across her features, the young woman pushed herself away from the desk. Her black stiletto heels clicked against the hardwood floors as she walked through the enormous house. It was quite brilliant, she thought. She had spent some time in several large mansions before but never this elegant.

Too bad she was going to have to leave very shortly. It was such a shame. She never got a chance to enjoy the fruits of her labor for long.

She passed by a rather large mirror in the foyer and carefully reapplied her bright red lipstick. Her fingers gently ran through her long blonde hair, making sure that one hair wasn't out of place. If she were to pride herself on one thing, it would have to be her appearance.

She smoothed out any wrinkles in her black business suit; the fabric perfectly tailored her to slim body. She took a step back when a large object bumped against the back of her feet, almost causing her to fall. She caught herself though, and shook her head laughing.

A body of a middle-aged man lay just below her feet, a syringe sticking out of his side.

_Silly Elizabeth, you should know better than to trip over the deceased. Have some respect for the dead._

Bringing the envelope to her lips, she closed her eyes as she imprinted her kiss. She placed it on the chest of her latest victim and closed the front door behind her.

* * *

Back at the station, Rebecca and Goran were going over evidence. Several case files spread across the large oval table. Seven crime scene photographs of other victims were taped across the oversized whiteboard on the opposite wall.

"One of the cops on scene found her purse. Nothing was missing in the apartment. Jewelry, money, personal information; it was all there, including her driver's license." In her hand was a photocopy of her identification. "Her name was Kayla Turner. She was a student at NYU, just about to finish her senior year. 23 years old…" Her voice faded as she read that last fact.

Rebecca couldn't help but relate to their victim. She was her age. Had her whole life going for her. And somebody, in such a sinister way, took it all away.

Goran cleared his throat as he watched his partner grow slightly uncomfortable. She was young, and still naïve when it came to the ominous world of police work. Rebecca wore her emotions on her sleeve and sometimes took cases a little _too close_ to heart.

While that trait could be a cop's Achilles Heel, he learned quickly that it made her the best. Her passion, along with her intelligence, got her promoted more quickly than most. She was quite possibly the most dedicated detective he had ever worked with.

He cleared his throat with a little more effort this time, stirring her out of her cloud of thoughts.

_Pull it together, Conway, you're embarrass yourself._

"So," she began, "Homicide spoke with the family. There was no boyfriend, no enemies. Then again, how many 23 year olds tell her family _everything_? I certainly don't do that. I got her cell phone records." She handed Goran a sheet of numbers with several highlighted. "Four calls and 8 text messages were sent and received in the past 24 hours."

Goran took the pen from his leather binder and circled the last four numbers. "The coroner report determined she died between 3 – 5 A.M. These right here? They were made after 2 A.M. The numbers are blocked though."

"Have we got the security footage back from Homicide yet?"

"Yeah," he stretched his arm out to turn on the television and VCR beside him.

The video was your typical surveillance footage. Each frame was in five-second increments, black and white, and not very good quality.

The duo watched as a dark-haired man wearing a black business suit walk from the elevators to the victim's apartment. Looking up at the camera shortly, he sneered evilly before waving his hand in front of the lens and cutting off the recording.

Rebecca _knew_ that face. She'd seen it before. "Why does that man look awfully familiar?"

Goran rewound the tape a few frames back and paused the screen just as the man's face was visible. "That's Gabriel Gray."

"The guy that killed his own mother in her apartment a few months back?"

Goran nodded and walked out of the conference room to his desk and she followed. He opened a drawer to pull out a case file. "He owned a clock shop in the city. He was your average geek; still lived with his mother, didn't have any friends, pretty reclusive guy. Then one day he disappeared. His mother filed a missing person's report with the department about a month or so before she died.

"CSI found his prints everywhere on the scene. The apartment building's video caught him leaving just after her estimated time of death." He sifted through the papers until he found the photo he was looking for.

Rebecca's hand flew up to cover her mouth in shock.

"She was found with over 50 knives plunged into her."

She looked more closely. "She didn't die like the others. He kept her brain in tact."

"It probably wasn't any use to him. He did this in the heat of passion. Something set him off."

"We still need to find some type of connection. There _has_ to be something, Goran." Walking back into the room an idea popped into her head. "What do we know about the victim before last? The guy in Chicago?"

"Donald Sullivan, age 49. He was a real estate agent in Chicago, had a wife and a daughter, nice little townhouse just outside the city. Last week the secretary found him at his office." Goran pointed to one of the pictures on the whiteboard as he spoke. The victim was face down on the ground, his top of his head removed.

"Same cause of death?" she asked.

Goran slumped down in a chair exhausted. "Everything's the same."

She was skimming over the autopsy report when something caught her attention. "Look at this," she pointed. "The murder weapon was listed as Unknown." Conway picked up the latest autopsy report from their crime scene just a few hours earlier. "The same thing's listed on Kayla Turner's autopsy." She looked up at Goran, stumped. "The coroner couldn't identify any known marks."

The medical examiners that ran the New York City Morgue were quite possibly the most experienced, intelligent, and skilled doctors in the world. They performed some of the most famous of cases, some still taught to this day in medical schools across the country. If _they_ couldn't identify the murder weapon, then something was definitely wrong here.

"What was the statement the secretary made?" she asked.

"He had three appointments that morning. Two of them were clients of his for years, but at," He paused for a moment as he pointed the information out on the list. "11:30. He met with a man named Dr. Mohinder Shuresh. He had another man with him but didn't know who he was."

"A house call?" A powerful businessman such as Sullivan was too busy to visit a doctor's office. They usually had their practitioners make a trip to their place of business.

"The secretary didn't say. She didn't believe he was sick, but he had been leaving the office abruptly for the past few weeks." He looked up at his partner from his seat. "What do you think?"

Both of her eyebrows rose. "I think we're going to Chicago."

* * *

_(Apartment of Kathryn Green, Chicago, Illinois, Seven Hours Later)_

"Donald was a good man," began Kathryn Greene. "I worked with him for over twenty years. Our families had dinner together all the time. We never had any secrets between the two of us."

Rebecca smiled genuinely and placed her hand on top of hers. "I heard that's how the most successful businesses run," she spoke softly.

Kathryn patted the tears away from her face with a tissue and nodded silently.

"He didn't have _any_ enemies?" asked Goran.

"No," she shook her head. "Everybody loved him."

"What about the doctor who came to see him? Had he been there before?"

She sipped her cup of tea before clearing her throat. "He was an Indian man. Dressed casually, had a leather bag with him. The man that was with him… white, dark hair, somewhat geeky looking… why am I being asked about this again? I already told the other detectives everything I know."

Rebecca patted her hand once again. A reassuring gesture she learned early on in her career that always seemed to help in cases such as these. It showed compassion and understanding; traits that a grieving family member or friend needed at that exact moment.

"We're just making sure that no stone is going unturned. The tiniest of details that could go unnoticed just might crack an entire case."

"You two said you were from New York?" Both detectives verbally agreed. "So why are you here, halfway across the country?"

Rebecca and Goran looked at each other. As if mentally agreeing, they told her about their case in New York, the five other related victims, just enough information to keep her satisfied without compromising their case.

Goran's cell phone began to ring loudly, and excused himself as he walked out of the apartment to take the call.

Kathryn had waited until Goran was out of the room before she began to speak. "You said the tiniest of details would help?"

"Absolutely. Was there something you remembered?"

"Maybe…" she hesitated.

"Mrs. Greene…"

"Kathryn," she stated. "Call me Kathryn."

"Kathryn," she spoke while looking into her eyes. "If you want to help Donald and his family, we _need_ you to be completely honest. Don't think for a second that you're breaking his trust.

She began twisting the tissue in her hands. Rebecca knew right away she was holding something back.

"Well…" she began, "Some weird things had been happening in the past couple of weeks. I would have to order new phones constantly for this office."

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to think I'm crazy…"

"No," Rebecca reassured, "Of course not. Please continue."

"The phones… you know the receiver you speak into? The handle in the middle had melted completely through." She shook her head and had a confused expression across her face. "Not just that… everything had to be replaced. The chairs, pens, even our conference table. All of them had melted too."

Kathryn looked up at Rebecca. "Am I absolutely insane?"

"No, you're not insane. I believe you," she lowered her voice while stating that last sentence.

* * *

At that moment, Goran walked back into the apartment. "We need to head back to New York. Thank you for your time Mrs. Greene. We're sorry for your loss."

"What was the call about?" She asked as they were riding the elevator downstairs.

"We've got a situation." He wouldn't elaborate any further.

"Situation?" He still wouldn't respond to her, making her more nervous with each second passing by.

"Bobby," she spoke with a firmer tone.

He exhaled loudly and braced himself for the worst. "Nathan Petrelli was murdered this morning."

With that one sentence, Rebecca's world became numb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Story:** Hazards  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairings****:** So I finally decided on my OFC/Peter pairing. This should be interesting.  
**Summary:** Heroes/Law & Order: CI Crossover. Detective Rebecca Conway of the Major Case Squad is working the case of a young woman murdered in her apartment. It seemed like a typical killing... at first. Each clue leads her and Detective Robert Goran down a road they never thought existed. It's very AU simply because I'm not including Eames.  
**Author's Note**: It's been a long time since I've written _anything_, let alone a Heroes story. I love criticism; the good, the bad, and the ugly-- just as long as it is constructive and not mean-spirited. So in other words: be gentle ;)  
**Author's Note II**: I hate Eames. I think she is so incredibly useless on that show that it's not even funny. I'm simply pretending that she doesn't exist. Also, I changed up some Sylar's victims. They've got new names, faces, etc.  
**Disclaimer**: Tim Kring and Dick Wolf are geniuses. I own nothing except for my OFCs. I'm simply borrowing these amazing characters for fun.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_(Four Years Ago, The Annual Petrelli Gala, New York City)_

_"Is this everything you imagined?"_

_Rebecca looked up towards the ceiling and took in the sight before her. She had been to a few political parties but none of them compared to _this_. The Petrelli's were known for extravagant affairs such as these. Angela wouldn't have it any other way. When it came to Nathan's career - heck, any event in their family - all the stops were pulled out._

_"Yeah," she replied, and looked back at him, and pleaded, "When can we get out of here?"_

_He turned his head to muffle his laugh. "Just as soon as my mother knows we've arrived. After that she won't notice we skipped out."_

_Out of a nervous habit, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "I feel so out-of-place here."_

_Her comment stopped him head in his tracks."Are you kidding me?" He observed the shrug of her shoulders. "You're insane. Look at you." He took in the sight of her. The sapphire-colored strapless dress complimented her olive skin; the matching necklace resting just above her collarbone gleamed in the lights above. Loose chocolate curls cascaded down her back, framing her face perfectly._

_But it wasn't her outward appearance that had the younger Petrelli so captivated. The sparkle in her deep brown eyes always seemed to pull him in. And her smile; just one playful grin lit up his entire day._

_The expression on his face was one Rebecca had been seeing a lot more of lately. She didn't quite understand where it was coming from. Nor could she quite pinpoint what it meant. What was it?_

_Whatever it was, it was intense. And it was beginning to make her nervous._

_Very nervous._

_Laughing uncomfortably, she tucked her hair behind her ear once again. "I guess I _do_ clean up nice… every once in a while," she joked._

_The two walked, arms linked, to the bar and ordered two sodas. They were willing to try anything to help the night move along quickly._

_"So how are the classes going? I heard NYU is pretty heavy."_

_She shrugged her shoulders. "It's okay, I guess. It has its ups and down." She sat down on the bar stool in front of her as she spoke. "But sometimes I wonder... nevermind. It's silly," she shook her head._

_"Come on. Tell me." He nudged her arm with his playfully._

_"It's stupid. Forget it."_

_"Hey." The tips of his fingers touched her jaw line, getting her to look him face to face. "It's me you're talking to."_

_The tingling sensation on her skin was a sudden surprise. Butterflies she never knew existed in her body began to flutter erratically in her stomach._

_She mentally shook the thoughts out of her mind. "Fine, but you have to promise me you won't laugh or look at me weird. And you can't tell anybody." He nodded silently. "_Nobody_ Peter. I mean it."_

_He felt up both hands for effect._

"_Not even your brother."_

"_Okay, okay," he laughed. "Just spit it out already."_

_Leaning forward, she whispered into his ear, "I've always wondered what it would be like... and you're going to have a good laugh at this..."_

"_Yes?"_

"… _to become a cop." _

_She waited for some kind of joke or retort in response. Somewhere in the back of her head, she wanted him to tell her how ridiculous the whole idea was; to talk her out of it; to get her mind back on track._

_This… _fantasy_, as she called it, had been plaguing her thoughts since she had started college. As each semester came and went, and her distaste for school grew, that tiny voice became louder. The one that screamed at her for following her parent's dreams and not her own; for letting it get this far; for wondering if she could get herself out._

_The jokes never came. The criticism never showed on his face._

_"So do it."_

_That was it? "Do it..." she repeated, "…what?"_

_"It!" he exclaimed. "Do the cop thing."_

_"Pfft," she scoffed. "Try telling that to mom and dad."_

_He had a good laugh at that. "You're trying to lecture _me_ on what it's like to have a difficult family? I mean," he raised his arm to draw her attention to the event happening behind them, "Hello!"_

_There was no way she was arguing with that statement. He had her beat. "True."_

_"Yeah, but, most of the time I just tell her what she wants to hear. Then I go about my business. You on the other hand..." He paused for a moment and took a sharp intake of breath. "Yeesh." He tugged at the collar of his button down for effect._

_She couldn't contain her laughter as Peter turned around to see Angela giving him the unspoken 'don't embarrass me' glare._

_Rebecca took another sip of her drink as her laughter softened. It was still a little hard to keep her composure though. "She iced you _good_," she taunted._

_He linked his arm with hers once again and pulled her to her feet. "Okay miss 'smartass', let's go dance."_

* * *

Time seemed to stop while traveling back to New York. It was endless. The words refused to quit playing in her mind, no matter how hard she tried. Her head dropped between her knees; hands clasped on either side to block out Goran's voice.

She had a job to do, though, and she refused to shed tears.

Rebecca felt cold, numb, and mostly in shock. She hugged her arms together, rubbing the backs of them up and down. Nothing seemed to work though, and the chill running through her veins remained the same.

_Nathan Petrelli was murdered this morning._

Surely, she would wake up at any moment, and be woken to the sound of his ringtone on her Blackberry.

Surprisingly, Goran remained silent as well, and let her be... for the time being. Eventually she would have to answer some questions. She just wasn't sure she was prepared for them. Not yet.

That time came just a few moments later.

"So," For once in his life, Goran was at a loss for words. "Are you…"

She raised her hand in the air stiffly. "Not now, Bobby," she spoke sharply. "Not now."

Not another word was spoken the rest of the way home.

* * *

The crime scene was a complete circus. News station vans, reporters, and photographers were everywhere; beat cops were on the scene to keep the crowds at bay but it was difficult.

Rebecca and Goran each flashed the guards their badges as they ducked under the crime scene tape. Each step she took, her pulse began to race faster and faster. The adrenaline running through her body was nothing new to her. However, there wasn't a case she followed that had ever hit so close to home.

Other people apparently thought the same way. As they walked up the brick steps to the front door, Captain Daniel Ross was there to stop them.

"Detective Conway? Stay outside. Goran and I can handle this."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did they really believe she was that incompetent to handle this? The anger was dripping from her voice as she spoke. "Are you attacking my professionalism, _Captain_?"

"I'm not attacking anything, Conway, it's just..."

"It's just _what_?" she interrupted. The more she spoke, the angrier she became, and the louder her voice grew. "I have a history with this man. So what? I'm a part of this team. I _deserve_ to be in there. Let go of me Goran." By now he had a firm arm wrapped around her waist and began pulling her away before she said anything she'd regret later on. "I can handle this on my own. Damn it Bobby, let _go_!"

"We're taking a walk. Come on," he pleaded with her. Now was _not_ the time for the NYPD to be all over the evening news - not because of such a high profile case - but because two officers were going at it. Reporters were everywhere and he couldn't risk his partner being scrutinized under the spotlight.

He _hated_ change, and if he were reassigned with a new partner because of her outburst? Well? Let's just say he doesn't take well to new things.

His firm grip didn't let up until they were back at Rebecca's SUV. Opening the passenger side door, he pointed to the seat and directed her to sit down. "Stay. Here," he barked, and slammed the car door shut.

Fifteen minutes later, Goran made his way back to the car, and opened the door. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her legs crossed in front of her. She didn't even bother to turn her head when the door opened; she was too angry to do anything else.

She understood why he took her out of the situation though. She didn't like it, but she understood. But she would be damned if she said anything first.

"Are you going to stop pouting like a five year old?"

Finally turning her head to face him, she retorted, "Are you going to stop being an ass?"

He sighed and hunch downward, his eyesight lined directly with hers. Goran put his hand upon her shoulder, and she shrugged it away angrily. "Look. What happens when he catch this guy? Your name is going to be in this investigation; they'll find some kind of loophole saying we abused our authority as police officers; they'll get away with it. It's a lawyer's wet dream."

She hated when he was right. Rebecca knew it. That awful voice in the back of her head told her she needed to listen to him.

But she couldn't.

"Since when in the hell do you ever follow orders?" she accused. He had a good chuckle at that. Resting her hand on his shoulder, her eyes pleaded with him, "Bobby," she spoke gently, "I _need_ to be in there."

Goran remained silent for a few moments. He scratched the side of his head and rested his hand /on his hip; his mind was wrestling with his conscious. Finally, he raised both hands in the air in 

defeat. "I talked to the Captain. After some _major_ ass kissing, he said okay. But the second something comes up…"

Nodding in agreement, she cut him off. "I understand. I just… I need to be there," she repeated.

He nodded his head and held his hand out for her to grasp. "Okay then."


End file.
